


Alternate Amaurot

by KuuCooCaChoo



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Dark Knight Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 09:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20619053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuuCooCaChoo/pseuds/KuuCooCaChoo
Summary: A "Good End" with Emet-Selch!The Warrior of Light encounters Emet in The Tempest, but this storyline branches off the MSQ with spicy, Ascian-loving romance. The third chapter will have all the smut and the rating will change to "Explicit" when that happens.Late-game Shadowbringers (5.0) Main Story Quest spoilers! Also technically some spoilers from the Tales from the Shadows "Through His Eyes" story.





	1. The Capitol

The Warrior of Darkness searched the streets of Amaurot alone, her vision saturated with Light, and ascended the ramp to The Capitol. Blue crystals decorated the entrance, drawing her sight with their glow, and she reached out to them. Before her fingertips could brush the stone, the massive twin doors swung open. Like everywhere else in the city, the interior walls rose far above her head; mysterious marble and metal covered the building from floor to ceiling, seamed with golden-hued, perfect geometry. Spirals, diamonds, rays that reminded her of sunbeams--the details were elaborate and beautiful.

Again, she felt tiny, out of place, and her sight was washed out with white--until her gaze fell back down to find not a towering Amaurotine, but someone closer to her own stature.

"Emet-Selch," she said, startled by the pleasantness of her own tone.

The Warrior blinked away the Light bleeding into her vision and found herself staring at him, the first thing she could perceive clearly after minutes of struggle. The sheer Darkness of his presence was like refreshing shade, something familiar, and it was almost comforting, unlike this strange, melancholy city. But her brow crinkled as the gentle sound of her voice echoed through the enormous chamber and faded away. She’d only said his name, but it was too friendly of a greeting.

“Your companions are absent. I was under the impression that you were lost without them.” He called across the room, teasing her.

She grew angry at the way she had addressed him, thoughtlessly, like he _was_ one of her companions. This man traveled alongside them, but he was their enemy. He shot the Crystal Exarch and took him captive. He was an Ascian responsible for the deaths of millions.

The Warrior swallowed and shouted, “I wanted to speak with you alone.”

It was mostly true. Ardbert lingered somewhere near, she knew, but those Emet-Selch could perceive, the Scions, waited elsewhere. She had a plan, she said. They trusted her.

Emet-Selch vanished into a black portal and reappeared a few yalms away from her, yellow eyes gleaming. His boots tapped a slow rhythm against the tile as he cleared the last of the distance on foot.

“Is that so? Even in your condition, you can't help but ask me more questions.” His broad Garlean frame loomed over her. "But alone? How unusual. I imagine your companions were displeased." 

He carefully took her chin in his gloved hand, examining her face. The Ascian's expression had been filled with disappointment since Innocence fell, and subsequently she, herself, but now there was a muted curiosity.

Breath held, body tense, her hand reached over her shoulder in a blink, clutching the hilt of the claymore on her back. She did not draw, but instead...considered the silk against her skin, cool and pleasant. Was it because the others weren't around to see? 

_He is a murderer_, she reminded herself.

But so was she.

"What matters is that they trust me," she said.

His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps they will also find that their belief in you was misplaced. Regardless, I gave you specific instructions, hero." He turned her jaw left and right, inspecting her like livestock. "The invitation to my abode was for a monster, not a broken woman with a list of inquires.”

She growled and knotted his streak of white hair in her fist, yanking his head to her level. “You created a city that does nothing but incite questions. That’s hardly fair, _Ascian_.”

Emet-Selch grabbed the wrist his hair was leashed to and forced it to the wall; he shoved his face close to hers, hissing laughter on her neck. His warm breath on her skin made her shiver, and it wasn't just adrenaline. With her blade now pinned between her back and the wall, she released its hilt, then her enemy's hair, and instead grabbed his coat collar with her free hand, twisting the fur lining to pull him away.

"Very well," he drawled. He lifted his head, golden eyes boring into hers. "Then let us imagine we're still travelling companions, hm?" A grin spread onto his face, and he squeezed her wrist. "What did you wish to ask me?"

Blood rushed to her cheeks, but with an unwavering voice, she asked, "What color is my soul?"

His widened eyes were vibrant against the shadows of his face. The information the Warrior gleaned was correct--even this man could be distracted, could hesitate. She silently thanked the shade of Hythlodaeus, the kind Amaurotine she’d met earlier.

Emet-Selch's eyebrows furrowed as he gathered himself. "Your soul is concentrated with sickly Light," he spat.

"Is it familiar to you?" The Warrior of Darkness remained stone-faced, glancing between his eyes for any sort of clue.

She didn't have to wait long. He released her, pulled a few ilms back, and after a moment, an ageless sadness crept onto his face. It was disarming.

"It is. It's indescribable," he whispered. "Your primitive visual spectrum cannot provide a similar comparison."

Strange and melancholy...but also fascinating. She could describe Emet-Selch with the same words she would Amaurot. 

"The people in this city--they're pieces of your memories, correct? They...recognize me," she said.

He shook his head and straightened up. Her fist, still grasping his collar, rose with his chest. “You, this--_pathetic_ husk, are not even a person,” he said. The light of the grand chandeliers overhead was blocked by his body. “They recognize that you were once a piece of their world, shattered and stolen by Hydaelyn."

"Hythlodaeus said something different. You created that ghost--a whole city of ghosts--and it stands that you should know what they meant." 

He grimaced at the mention of Hythlodaeus.

"Emet-Selch," she said. She hesitated, then unclenched her fist and spread her fingers, resting them on his chest. "We can still come to an understanding. Some part of you knew me--_knows_ me."

_No one was around to see. It was alright._

"'An understanding'?!" He flinched away from her. "Seven times rejoined, and you are still so far from understanding,” he said. “Have you forgotten? You failed to contain the Light. I believe I made it clear that you are weak, unworthy, incapable of understanding."

"I refuse to believe this is coincidence,” she said. “You were attached to this person, weren’t you? They wouldn't want you to do this, either. They wouldn't want you to sacrifice all this life to bring back the dead."

The Warrior of Darkness had lost and grieved and longed. She didn’t need to live for eons to know the depth of that pain. But even Amaurotine demigods knew that, ultimately, one needed to press forward, carrying the ones no longer with them in their memories.

"Do not speak as though you knew them!”

Except some disagreed, trapped and tempered by the past.

“And do not speak to me of sacrifice," he snarled. “My people were desperate, but _willing_. The love they felt for their fellow man was so _beyond_ themselves, beyond your pathetic perceptions of compassion."

Emet-Selch was a man of many expressions, but never had the Warrior of Darkness seen him so hurt. This time, when she placed her hands on his chest, he didn't pull away. His eyes were bright and wild, like a wounded animal's, his sorrow deep and familiar.

"Hydaelyn destroyed reality as we knew it. Shattered our family, friends, loved ones. They are dead and gone, regardless of what their wishes were."

The Warrior of Darkness--of Light--imagined how many bodies had been stacked on the scale between Zodiark and Hydaelyn.

How many had she cut down in the name of 'good'?

How many more would she kill if she lived as long as the Ascians had?

“Emet,” she said. “There must be another way to honor your people.”

"Zodiark's revival is the only way. I offered you a place in His rejoined world." He leaned in close once more. "But you failed me."

There was a shudder of Light in her lungs, a burning pang that made it difficult to breathe, and she took a shaky breath. She worked her fingers through the layers of his garb, under his red sash, and fought it back.

"Do you wish to Forgive me, hero?" He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "You look as though you do."

She knew she must have. Her body was hot. It wasn't just her fiery fight response, or her sickness; she was undoubtedly attracted to this man. "I can’t forgive you,” she said. “But we also can't undo--"

He cut her off. "This time, allow me to ask you a question. Do you know what twisted emotions guide a sin eater?"

She stilled. He was grinning.

"Affection. Love. Lust," he crooned. 

The names they called the monsters by. Phila, Eros--

"The girl's magicks hold your Light back, but how long will it last?"

Emet-Selch pressed his lips to hers before she could answer him. She hoped for this. This horrible longing for her enemy--

Her heart leapt and it rattled the Light inside her. She pulled open his undershirt, felt his bare skin. Did the overflow of aether muddy her mind? Not enough for her to forget the white auracite tucked under her armor, but enough for her to kiss him back. He was still grinning. She felt the shape of his smile against her lips. Ascians were masters of manipulation; this was foolish, dangerous…exciting.

She ran her fingers over his chest and shoulders, peeled away his coat and dropped it to the floor. His body was warm and soft, like any person’s. Vulnerable. A prison for an Ascian soul to be trapped inside and destroyed. She just needed to--

But was there another way? _Please, let there be another way_, she thought, as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. She tasted him for a few heated seconds as he wrapped his arms around her, his hands searching, and when he began to undo her armor, she allowed it. Her sword and upper attire clattered down alongside his Garlean finery. 

The satchel on her belt was exposed. Within was the auracite.

Aether crawled up the Warrior’s throat once more, and she abruptly pulled away from the Ascian; she choked it back, swallowing his spit as she caught her breath. She brought the back of her hand to her mouth to catch an escaped droplet of liquid Light. Emet-Selch’s eyes were on her body, her bra the only thing concealing her heaving chest.

"You're eager," he chuckled. "That will make your transformation all the smoother."

“I intend to put that off for as long as possible,” she said. “I didn’t come here to die.” But maybe that was what she deserved for pining after their enemy, she thought. “Just to discuss options.”

“Discuss options, hm? Is that what you would call this?”

Their hands entwined, he lowered himself to the floor and guided her with him, using his fallen coat as a blanket to rest upon. She found herself straddling his lap. Flustered, she steadied herself by grasping his shoulder. Never did she think she’d be entangled with an Ascian like this.

“...yes,” she said, unable to hide a smirk. 

“The only option is for you to submit to the Light and consume the last of this world for me,” he said, voice low. His words sounded less certain with this woman on top of him.

She fingered Emet-Selch’s wrist and slid her hand inside his glove. When she pulled it off, she enclosed his hand in both of hers. His palm was so delicate; hers were battlescarred and callused. “I don’t believe that. Let me find another way,” she said.

He looked through her, somewhere far away. “No matter what form I encounter you in…”

“You even admitted that you could learn something from man. With the Crystal Exarch’s knowledge, we could find a different way to achieve the ‘balance’ you’re looking for. Without the Great Rejoining.”

She thought of Ryne and Alisaie and the rest of her friends, scrambling to find a cure for the Light that threatened to overwhelm her. It was a reminder that no matter how desperately she wanted to find a solution...

Emet-Selch sighed softly as he looked back at her. His face was solemn.

...there may not be another. Not for him, and not for the Warrior of Light.

She released him and dropped her hands to her waist. The white auracite was within reach.

“Return him to us,” she said.

“Ah, I thought you’d forgotten about him.” He left a trail of lazy kisses on her collarbone as he removed his second glove.

"Obviously not.” 

Little jolts of pleasure rolled through her, and it made her vision hazy white. She cursed her affliction, wishing she could properly enjoy his attention. She reached into the satchel and he glanced up at her knowingly. It stung to gaze into his honey-colored eyes.

_This man was tempered._

“I can comfort you in the moments before your descent into madness,” he said. His bare hands gripped her waist, his touch electric; it felt like a physical blow against the dam to her Light. It grew harder for her to see.

_He was going to kill her in Zodiark’s name._

“I would consume you too,” she said.

"You would fail," he said. "You cannot kill me." He nuzzled his cheek against her hair, eyes closed.

They opened again as the Warrior of Light pressed the crystal against his chest.

“I’m sorry, Emet."

Tendrils of Darkness erupted from him, grasping her arms, and her own Light tore free from her body in response. Wisps of aether clashed as she shoved him to his back, one hand to his neck and the other crushing the white auracite against his ribs. It sparked against his skin and he grit his teeth with a cry of pain. She could barely see him, but the sound wrenched her heart.

_Why did it have to come to this?_

The Ascian wrung her wrist in his hands and pushed the auracite away, ilm by ilm. The Darkness was heavier than iron chains, and she struggled against his strength, channelling her own into the crystal. She crumpled forward and screamed as she threw her weight, Light ichor dripping from her mouth and eyes, but it still wasn’t enough.

_Let this be over._

She held his throat, but she was the one suffocating. Her own Light and his Darkness were more than her mortal body could bear. But...somehow, her cloudy sight was clearing. She saw the sorrow in Emet-Selch’s resolve. She saw her Light entangle with the Dark, then the two disappear together in glimmering bursts. More black tendrils appeared from him, but the Light within her continued to flood out in response; it was almost like fireworks, the way their energies spiraled and snapped through the air before vanishing.

She took a breath. She was...able to take a breath.

Emet-Selch stared up at her, bewildered; his strength weakened, but the Warrior was the one to loosen her grip. She felt lighter. Then suddenly, weightless; the Ascian lifted her into the air with aethereal ropes, pulling her off him. The ichor she cried became paler, then transparent--the falling fluid was now just...water. A few tears of relief.

She wasn't going to turn.

And maybe he didn't have to die.

Wisps of Light severed the Darkness suspending her and she fell to her knees. She was battered, but the building pressure inside her was alleviated; she felt like she had before she absorbed the final Lightwarden. The auracite clinked alongside her, then rolled to rest by her blade.

“I contained it,” she said.

Supported by dark aether, Emet-Selch rose to his feet and took a defensive step back. The aura withdrew into him like a recoiling snake as he outstretched his hand. "That was very clearly the opposite of containing," he said. "Tch...what a waste of Light. I confess I didn't consider the possibility of this reaction." His breathing was heavy, beads of sweat on his body. Something like hope glimmered in his eyes. 

The Warrior of Darkness grabbed the hilt of her claymore and stood up; its edge dragged against the marble, but didn't leave a scratch.

"We can find the balance you're looking for, Emet-Selch."

She'd negate as much of his Darkness as she could, throw herself at him until he ceased to be a threat.

"Enough prattle," he growled. The Ascian winced and looked away. "You're still so naive… Your claims are conjecture based on desperation."

"I'll take that chance. Not just for me and my people, but for you and yours," she said. "For this person who I once was."

"You think your tattered soul of equal worth to the ones I lost? Then come--_earn_ your place. Prove yourself worthy to inherit this star.”

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers, the piercing sound echoing through the chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I learned after writing this that ALC quests inform us that the WoL's soul is blue.  
Oops.  
Let's just say that Emet thinks the WoL is too dumb to comprehend the color blue. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. Mortal Instants

Hades' snap heralded a thunderous rumble. The chandeliers above swung like pendulums, then spewed a diamond shower as they detached from the ceiling. Cracks spread through the stone and the roof ripped open under the force of the first meteor, exposing a red, blazing sky.

_Welcome to the final days of Amaurot..._

He vanished into a portal of Darkness as the Warrior of Light leapt and rolled away from the debris. Vision enveloped with black, sweat still on his body, he thought of the moments he spent tangled with her just an instant before. He brushed his thumb against his lip as if wiping away lingering longing. 

It was supposed to work in his favor, to further the Ascians’ plan: why not use his millennia of romantic practice? But she was so...insistent. That honesty, that sincere desire to become closer to him. Her sincerity reminded him of Hythlodaeus, and their dear friend. During his time in Amaurot, the three of them were inseparable, regardless of Hades' dismay. He always complained then, but now, those were some of his most cherished memories.  
Unlike this one.

The shadows left his sight as he reappeared on top of a building adjacent to the Capitol. From his vantage point above, he watched the Warrior burst out of the doors and dash through the burning streets, scrambling to replace her armor. Under different circumstances, it would have been comical, he thought, but her confidence had grown. She manipulated the Light in her favor. It was a threat.  
Hades snapped, and his own attire returned to his body in a blink.

Her words stuck in his mind; her claim to have another way. Could she prove her worthiness after all? How obnoxious of her to show evidence of this at journey’s end.

_The fabric of our star began to fray…_  
_...and the unchecked energies of creation begat malformed beasts._

Reequipped, she plunged toward the abominations that appeared before her, woven from Hades' aether and memory. Beings of pure terror, ripped from the depths of the Ancients' minds, with too many eyes, mouths, teeth…

She saw him watching her, face raised to the bloodstained sky. Sword cutting a broad arc through the air, she shouted, “Emet-Selch!”

Her voice rang out over the din of snapping fire and falling skyscrapers. That wasn't his name. He realized he missed hearing his friends call his name. It had been so, so long… He strolled across the rooftop and teleported to another while a meteor roared toward his previous position. The building behind him unleashed a metallic shriek and hurtled toward the earth. Tremors of the crumbling city and falling sky threatened to knock the Warrior to her knees, but again and again she steadied herself, and kept running, kept chasing...

_Just as prayer gives rise to primals, our dread made manifest our deepest fears._

The glow of her soul was a faint candle, held upright, a defiant beacon in his illusory apocalypse. His own aether flowed through this place, shaping this moment in time, but there was no other life, no souls here...only her. The light of her soul was dim, like all of the fragmented creatures of her world, but refused to be snuffed out, regardless of the trials in her path. She sliced through the limbs, the tendrils and thorns--and kept running.

The friend who completed Hytholadaeus and Hades’ trio--the fourteenth Convocation member--she was confident, too, even when the world fell apart around her. She and the Warrior of Light both fought against Zodiark's path with the same desperate defiance.

"Emet!" She called out again.

Hades trudged along the falling towers and spires, teleporting from platform to platform, as she sprinted below to keep up.

_The land buckled; the cities burned; the waters ran red with blood…_

She would like this Warrior, he thought. If it were possible to have them both in one place, he knew they would get along just fine.  
_"You finally found a partner,"_ she would tease. _"She looks a little like me, huh?"_ He could imagine the playful jab of her elbow.  
Hades shook his head. Perhaps that was why he found the hero of the Source so absolutely infuriating.

He moved as if sleepwalking, contrary to the world collapsing around him. This dream was less painful than the actual memory. The devastation was a perfect reflection, but the flow of aether was wrong. The illusion was only an extension of himself, after all, excluding the stray soul fighting through the city.  
When paradise fell, the sight of souls plummeting to the Underworld was like a meteor shower all on its own. Souls he knew, in the city he loved, suddenly killed and torn away. He watched as the entire star fell into and undid itself.

That horrible memory was his alone. Hades was the only unsundered who could witness the torrent of dying souls. There was no one left whom he could even replicate it for.

Hades rolled his tired shoulders and sighed away his hazy thoughts. He now stood at the far edge of the amphitheater, before the Warrior of Light. She defied one doom after another, blood and gore in her wake. The distended remains of her latest enemy lie strewn; robed corpses of Ancients littered the stands.

He expected an expression of horror, but she had pity in her eyes.

“Stop running,” she panted.

“I’m not. I’m _guiding_. Your next challenge awaits.”

He reached out. She calmed herself enough to sling her claymore over her shoulder, and took Hades’ gloved hand.

_Yet this was far from the worst of it. Come, and I will show you…_

His aether crawled around his wrist, then expanded to enfold the two of them. Their momentary displacement in the space in-between was close and intimate; the sounds of falling meteors, rubble, and crackling flame were washed away. The only noise in the silence was their breathing.

_Just a little further…_

It was interrupted by the Warrior’s Light flickering around her fingers with a sound like broken glass; she flinched and released him. The veil of Darkness fell away, and the pair stood so high in the heavens that the expansive curvature of the planet was before them.

_...and you will see the end of a world._

It was nearly blackened, vanishing into the star-sprinkled void of space. Its life and light flickered out, and what still glowed on the surface was a red, deadly blaze. The burning world reflected in the Warrior’s eyes.

_The star was fading. We saw we had to weave its laws anew…_

“What would you have done?” he asked.

She took a step forward on the platform of violet crystal, silhouetted against the destruction. “I don’t know,” she said. “But that’s irrelevant.” She turned her head to look back at him. “We’re here now. Millions of living, breathing people.”

“I watched my people suffer and die. You claim they are unworthy of life?”

Their end was cruel, unfair. They didn't deserve that fate. He could give the Ancients another chance--this Warrior and her people were no replacement.

“No. Not at all. They’re just already gone, Emet.”

She was...different. Her soul lacked the vibrancy and depth of the Ancients’, but still had a strength that reflected that of his dearest friends'.  
But it wasn't enough. Again and again, these fragmented peoples showed him just how weak and wanting they were. Even without Ascian interference, they would destroy themselves--it would merely take longer.

“Were they immortal? You said they ‘lived for an age’, but that isn’t forever. We all meet our end eventually."

Wingbeats rang out and bursts of wind washed over them. Their hair and clothing fluttered as Therion, the final doom, descended. Crumbling firmament underfoot was tossed into the air; the enormous, dragon-like beast eclipsed their sight of the star.

_But between us and our goal loomed a final misbegotten fiend…_

The flowers in Amaurot never wilted. Those purple blooms filled the city with a sweet, faint scent. Always. _This_ flower, this woman, these people...were so fleeting. It was wrong. It was cruel.

She huffed. "You're quieter than usual." The Warrior readied her sword, turning away from him to face the monstrosity. "I'll defeat whatever you throw at me, Emet," she said.

She needed to end. Here. Now.

"Let the Light take you," Hades whispered.

She didn't acknowledge him, or perhaps didn't hear him over the thrum of gathering energy. A bright light swelled before Therion's heads; it mimicked a game Concept, with four empty-eyed faces in place of reels.

"I will take the Crystal Exarch back, and I will stop you," she yelled.

Something about the final doom's appearance mocked the Convocation. His old friend... She said Zodiark was a gamble, a risk they should not take. She was incorrect.

The foundation below the Warrior of Light fractured. She bent her knees and braced herself as Therion's energy swelled; rock drifted into the air as gravity failed.

She had to be incorrect.

* * *

Ultimately, the hero was victorious. _Again_. Hades removed himself from the battlefield during the struggle, and returned afterwards with a scowl. Therion's fallen body unraveled into dark aether and dispersed.

The stage was cleared of abominations, but comets continued to streak by and fall toward the planet. Regardless of the monsters' demise, none of the shades would be saved.

"Well, well. You prevailed," Hades said.

The Warrior of Light, battered and exhausted, stumbled toward him. Perhaps he should have placed even more energy into the beast. Now he would have to finish the job himself. He grimaced.

“Nevertheless! I remain unconvinced. Look at you, hardly able to stand; one so frail cannot serve as the steward of a star.”

“Gods damn you,” she groaned, then fell to a kneeling position, stabbing her blade into the ground.

“I will ask one final time, hero. Accept your fate.”

Her claymore as a crutch, she rose with a glare. “What will it take to convince you of our ‘worthiness’, Emet?”

“Hm. Your battle prowess is impressive, I admit, but you are still too weak. You cannot contain your impulsive compassion, and your Light will feed on it until it overtakes you. Must I give you another demonstration?”

"It won't. It is a strength. Emotions like love and hope… They always make me fight harder."

Zodiark’s influence was not absolute. He allowed the Ascians a degree of judgement. They tested these shattered people, judged them. Emet-Selch, Hades, merely sought the truth. It was on his shoulders to determine the worthiness of this new world.

He did have hope for it, once. 

During his days as Solus zos Galvus, he held his first child and felt love for the life he had fathered. Even his creation magicks couldn’t replicate his son’s soul, regardless of its dull shine. In this shattered world, still, souls could only be formed by natural methods of reproduction. They were broken, but even creating a broken soul was out of the Ascians' reach. 

Those souls were weak, doomed to die long before him. He had passed thousands of years with these temporary and fleeting families. These broken people.

Broken people like her.

The others always gave up. His wives, children, grandchildren: they tried to offer him comfort, despite their ignorance to the source of his depression and rage. But the Warrior was painfully relentless, like his two long-departed friends.

He didn’t want to be loved by these broken beings. He didn’t want to feel affection for them. He wanted his old loves returned, his lost friends and family, who he'd been fighting for for thousands of years.

Why must she continue to show him love? She was not the same, but she was familiar. It hurt to think of her demise, be it in this moment or years from now.

"I'll pit my Light against you again," she said. "You hold the remedy, Emet-Selch."

Her body was weakened by Therion, and the Light seeped through the cracks in her soul. She reeled, clutched her chest until the spasms stopped, then walked toward him again, abandoning her sword.

"All I can offer you is a swift death," he said. "Why must you keep fighting?" His voice was almost a plea.

The Oracle’s containment magicks were fading from the Warrior. While she was no longer on the brink of turning to a sin eater, her soul was heavily damaged. Guiding this sundered being to her demise would be a mercy; he was called a denizen of the Underworld, after all. She would no longer have to play the part of a hero, to live this miserable phantom of a life.

“I know there’s another way,” she said.

She used Hades to brace herself as she straightened up. His back stiffened as he looked down at her, arms limp at his sides. She closed her eyes, resolved. 

A moment passed, and Light enveloped her body; his Darkness raised a barrier to defend him. Her glow brightened, expanded, and the density of her soul grew as a new, outside source of aether sealed its cracks. Hades thought it was merely an overflow of aether that trailed after her all this time, a spill of Light that could hardly be perceived, but with an energy not unlike a Rejoining, it drew into her--  
And the sight of the Warrior's reignited soul struck him with powerful familiarity. This woman truly blossomed from her: different, but alike, and filled with hope.

In a voice that both was and wasn’t her own, the Warrior said, “I don’t want to lose you, Emet.”

Before his friend left him behind, before the Convocation summoned Zodiark without her, she said the same words. The only difference was--

“Hades. My true name is Hades,” he said.

He denied his friend’s wishes then. The majority had decided on Zodiark’s path to save the star, and he stood by them for the sake of the world. Seeing her wishes reborn in the heart of the person before him, though, he admitted to the possibility of a new truth.

The Warrior of Light’s eyes widened. She spoke his name softly, fingers wandering down his body, and the thought of their earlier kiss burned in his mind.  
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight against his chest, looking into the defiant smolder of her soul. Its color displayed a pastel softness, rather than a diluted reflection; not a weaker shade, but a gentler one. One that comforted him. The Ascian dipped her and pressed his lips against hers. 

Darkness smothered her and her Light sparked in protest, but it didn’t stop her from returning his affections. Teleportation magicks enveloped them, and the sound of their hot breath in the black void heightened his desire.

The memory of the apocalypse peeled away. Together they fell into Hades' Amaurot home, a recreation scaled to the body of Solus for convenience and comfort. Soon they were undressed again, as they were in the Capitol, every touch and kiss urging on the other further. Ah, when was the last time he allowed himself to feel like this? Away from prying eyes, in his sanctuary in the depths, they could--

“Right, you,” he muttered. 

He planted one more kiss on the Warrior’s brow and looked over her head. The Crystal Exarch tumbled out of the bathroom behind her. Hades had shot him a few extra times when he last attempted to open that door, and was impressed that he still managed to claw his way out.

The Miqo’te hoisted himself up with the help of his staff, then stared, quite obviously, at the Warrior of Light’s mostly-bare back. Ears perked at full alertness, he stammered her name before she whirled around and nearly screamed to cut him off.

“G’raha! Are you alright?” With fumbling fingers, she produced the auracite and brandished it at Hades, who raised an eyebrow. Her free hand readjusted the bra strap that slid down her shoulder.

The Exarch looked rather _not_ alright, as his face was twisted with confusion, and his robes were bloody and tattered. "Ah, I--I am fine. Thank you. Are _you_ alright, my friend?" He glanced between her and the Ascian.

"Yes," she replied, gaze darting around the room. "I have the situation under control. Go, quickly!"

"That is the exit," Hades said, pointing with a still-gloved hand. "You will find that the lift down the hall is active. We can discuss your collective of knowledge another day."

"And why would--"

"We--ah--are negotiating a solution," the Warrior added. "We'll talk more later, G'raha; the Scions wait in the city."

The Exarch was silent a moment, then nodded. "If you insist," he said with reluctance. He stepped around the pair, eyeing them both with uncertainty, and made his way out of the room.

"Don't attempt any more grand stunts on your way out," Hades called after him. 

The Exarch's footsteps receded, and Hades grabbed the Warrior's wrist. Her fist clenched the crystal. "Were you still planning on imprisoning my soul, hero? I freed your companion," he said.

She stared up at him, flushed, lips parted. A shudder of Light made her wince. "No," she said. "Not if you're still willing to...negotiate."

Hades smirked as she lowered the auracite. It entertained him how she could look simultaneously powerful and vulnerable.

"That all depends on how well you handle me when I bring my full strength to bear," he purred.

Perhaps the last century of manipulating the First would be for naught. He would just have to make it worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thank you for reading this!! This is the first thing I've really written in literal years and I needlessly stressed a lot over it.  
If you enjoyed it at all, please drop a Kudos or a Comment if you can! I would appreciate any sort of feedback.  
Just knowing at least one person out there read this and enjoyed it would make me happier than you know.
> 
> P.S. My Twitter is @shellshaded!


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